Absolutely ImPerfect
by Juana la Cliker-Rooster
Summary: TF:A Semi-prequel to "Puppet". Prowl's teen life learning the art of Circuit-Su starts to stress him out, and his past memories aren't making things easier. Rated M for self-injury and some language. Do not read if easily triggered.
1. Chapter 1

"**Absolutely (Im)Perfect"**

**2008**

**Juana la Cliker-Rooster**

**Disclaimer: I'm pretty sure Hasbro knows I don't own any version Transformers.**

**Hey all! I'm back! It's been, what, a couple of weeks? Anyway, someone asked me to do Prowl's story after they read about it in "Puppet", so here it is! I'm still working on it, so I'll probably only update it once a week. Maybe twice a week if you review it. And remember, as always, don't give me flames. I report that kind of unhelpful, hurtful garbage. Don't send me crap.**

**-Juana**

**One**

"I can't keep him. I'm not capable of caring for a youngling at my old age." The old and worn police officer gazed sadly at his long-time friend, who looked back with an equally sad understanding. The small, restless child in the officer's lap was biting at his own tiny digits, looking upward with mild interest at his elders. He'd heard the word "youngling", which meant they were discussing him. Was this a bad thing or a good thing? He was too young to know, so, like any child would, he asked.

"PoPo? What are you talkin' 'bout?"

"Nothing, little one."

"But—"

"Silence, Prowl. The grown-ups are talking. Don't be rude."

"Sorry." The little youngling went back to chewing on his digits, but continued to listen. He was small and very young, but he wasn't stupid.

Law enforcement officer Prowl, now getting on in years, looked back up from his nephew and resumed the conversation with his equally old friend, Autobot Medical Officer Ratchet.

"After Optimus Prime passed on, none of us really knew where to go or what to do. Even with the Decepticons finally banished after all these millions of years, it's like our lives were put on hold," said the aging Prowl. Ratchet responded,

"Yeah. I feel awful for Elita-One and their son. Barely a hundred mega-cycles after little Oppy's birth, old Prime's systems just faltered. There was nothing I could do. And old Prime wanted a family so badly. Once he got it, it was like his purpose in life was fulfilled and he had nothing left to live for, not even his son."

"Hmm. Bluestrak left me with his only child. He named the little guy after me, said I was some kind of war hero. I'll never believe that as long as I function. He wanted me to be his godfather." He looked down at little Prowl, whose optics were now fixated on his uncle.

"PoPo, are you talkin' 'bout my creator?" he asked innocently, tears welling up in his bright, yet thin optics. Prowl remembered his days on Earth, back when the Autobots were still at war with the Decepticons. There had been humans with optics…eyes, like little Prowl's. Asian, they were called. Little Prowl had 'Asian' optics. And they were filling with oily tears.

"Yes, little one," he murmured softly, "I am. I miss him just as much as you do." Little Prowl grabbed his godfather's big arm and sobbed softly into it. Orphaned at such a young age, he had no family save for Prowl Senior to take him in. The medical officer was on his way out; he knew he couldn't keep the child just to leave him.

Ratchet sighed and said,

"There're a few things we can do, Prowl. We can send him to a youngling facility, where he can grow up and learn with others his age. There're also a few Autobot boot camps looking for younglings. They have nurseries that help train future medics, caretakers, that sort of thing. Bumblebee owns a few of them, the ones that focus on the troubled ones, bless his spark. I doubt little Prowl here needs to be there, though, am I right?"

"Funny thing you should say that, Doc," said Prowl with a small laugh, "I asked Bumblebee if he was looking to adopt again. He can't take this little guy, unfortunately. He's adopted eight younglings already, and he and his spark-mate had made one of their own a while back. Both of them have their hands full, what with their facilities and their kids, it's just too much."

"'Bee was always such a good kid. Glad to see he finally saw how much he was worth, especially to Prime. The kid cried the most at the funeral."

"I remember. Hey, what's this?" Prowl reached for a data pad from Ratchet's desk and looked at what it advertised.

"'Master Wildburner, Master of Circuit-Su, sends this message to all Cybertronians interested in learning the ancient art of Circuit-Su. We have a program for younglings as well as older Cybertronians.' Circuit-Su, huh? That wouldn't be a bad idea. The kid would learn how to defend himself; it would help him develop a strong sense of self-esteem and confidence…. Maybe this is the right way to go. What do you think, Ratchet?"

"It wouldn't be a bad idea, no," said Ratchet. "I've been there for injuries before, and all the students seem to have confidence. Maybe sending little Prowl there would be beneficial."

"Would I be allowed to visit him?"

"Of course. The place isn't totally remote and isolated. They have several different programs. Wildburner is a good guy; we're not close, but I know for a fact that we can trust him with the little guy here."

"PoPo?" asked little Prowl a second time, looking up again, "What are you talkin' 'bout? What's circus su?"

"Circuit-Su, little one," answered Prowl Senior, "it's a very old, very special practice in martial arts. Would you be interested in learning it?"

"I wanna stay with you, PoPo!" The youngling jumped up for his godfather and tried to reach his face, but of course it was in vain. The little 'bot stretched his arms as far as he could before giving up and plopping back down on his behind.

"PoPo?" he asked quietly. There was something wrong; something was going to happen…something bad. He had to know, so little Prowl leapt off of his godfather's lap and onto Ratchet's desk.

"Doctor Ratchet, what's goin' on? Is something bad gonna happen?" Ratchet patted the youngling's head and said,

"Little one, Cybertron is constantly changing. People go away and new people come into our lives. It's like a big adventure. And sometimes…sometimes the grown-ups in our lives can't be here forever. Everyone has to…pass on and join the Matrix at some point." The little 'bot's optics grew even wider.

"Who!" he screamed, "Who's gonna die?! Is it PoPo? PoPo can't leave me, I can't be alone!" Prowl Senior plucked the distressed youngling off Ratchet's desk and cuddled him close.

"Prowl, one day I am going to leave you. Not because I want to, but because I am old. My spark is growing tired and soon it won't be able to take care of me. I don't want to leave you—"

"Then don't!" the little one cried again. "don't leave me!" Prowl Senior sighed, then said,

"Little one, I can't promise anything. I know it's very hard to hear this, no one ever wants to hear that someone they love is going to pass on, but it is inevitable."

"sniff What's that mean?"

"It means it has to happen."

"But why?"

"Cybertron would be very crowded if no one ever passed on, don't you think?"

"Yeah, but no one would be sad!" Prowl Senior smiled sadly at his godson—so naïve, so optimistic. Younglings thought they could save the world if they really wanted to. He sighed, then said,

"Little one, tomorrow you and I will go to meet Master Wildburner. He teaches Circuit-Su, and maybe he will train you. We'll talk more about passing on tomorrow, too. Say good bye to Doctor Ratchet."

"sniff B-bye, Doctor Ratchet."

"I'll be seein' ya, kid," replied Ratchet, giving little Prowl the best fake smile he could. It broke his spark to see a youngling so upset, especially when the subject revolved around going offline. He'd already lost his creator, now he was going to lose his godfather? It was devastating.

Prowl Senior nodded to his old friend, then carried the youngling back outside.

"Come, little one. Let's go home."

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**I made little Prowl cute.**


	2. Chapter 2

**Back again! I figured I may as well add the next chapter, just to speed things along. **

**I realized I forgot to explain the time thing here, so: this obviously takes place sometime after the Great War. G1 Prime has died already, the war is over, and everyone is getting or has gotten their lives back on track. G1 Prowl has adopted Animated Prowl (still a sparkling/youngling), Ratchet is now just a regualar doctor trying to get past the war.

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**

**Two**

The next day, the law enforcer and his charge began their journey to a semi-remote area of Cybertron, a few mega-cycles away. Little Prowl sat quietly inside his godfather's vehicle mode and barely moved. He was giving off distress signals that Prowl could feel, so he said,

"Let's talk, little Prowl. What's wrong?"

"I don't want you to die," the youngling said instantly. Prowl Senior sighed and said,

"Little one, I'm sorry. I don't like it any more than you do, but it is going to happen one day. Even Optimus Prime had to go off-line, remember? It's natural, and supposed to happen."

"But not now!" cried the youngling, "notnownotnownotnow!" He kicked his godfather's side.

"OW! Hey, mister, that's not acceptable. Don't do it again." And of course, little Prowl slammed his foot into the side again. Prowl senior transformed and grabbed the little youngling in his hand before crushing him. Holding him up by his scruff bar and staring with an annoyed expression on his face, he said,

"What did I just say, Prowl?"

"'Don't do it again'," answered the little one meekly.

"And what did you do?"

"I did it again."

"Would you like to tell me why you kicked me twice?" Little Prowl gave his godfather the biggest, most innocent eyes he could before he answered,

"'Cause I don't want you to die." The officer dimmed his optics and shook his head.

"Listen, Prowl. I'm not going to go offline for a little while, alright? However, no one can ever really tell when it's going to happen. What we're doing for the next couple of cycles is find a place that can take care of you and help you grow up to be a good Autobot. I want you to be safe."

"But do I have to stay there now? Are you going to leave me there forever?"

"Of course not, Prowl. We'll go check it out, talk to Master Wildburner and come home, together. I promise I'll tell you everything that happens. Even the things that might seem a little too grown-up for you."

"Like paperwork," said little Prowl, "you always do boring paperwork. Only grown-ups do boring paperwork."

"Exactly," laughed Prowl Senior, "just like my boring paperwork. Now, promise me you'll be good on our journey?"

"Okay," answered the youngling, still slightly upset about the whole thing, "I promise. Can we sing on the way?"

"Yes. Not too loud though, you know how much it hurts my audios."

"Jazz played a lot of loud music for me when he was babysitting me. He said it was from Earth. What's earth?"

Prowl Senior transformed back into vehicle mode and let his little charge climb back in before answering,

"Well, back in the day, when I fought in the war with the Decepticons—"

"Plllllbb," little Prowl added, sticking his glossa out.

"—I worked with Optimus Prime, the greatest leader the Autobots have ever seen. We were being attacked by the Decepticons and we crash landed on a planet very far away from Cybertron. We were offline for about four million years, and when we woke up, we learned that Earth was only just beginning to evolve into a more technological era. They had only discovered ways to play pre-recorded music using tapes and even something very primitive called the record player. Don't ask me what that is, it's ancient history."

"Were there people on Earth, PoPo?"

"Little squishy things called humans. They were irritating, and I didn't really like them, but Jazz did, and so did Bumblebee."

"I love Bumblebee," said little Prowl excitedly, "maybe I should stay with him."

"No, little one, he already has a very big family. He would never get a chance to play with you."

"Oh," said the little one, saddened by this news. He had known all the heroes of Cybertron, and his PoPo, Jazz and Bumblebee were his favorites.

"Can I stay with Jazz?"

"Jazz is too busy, Prowl. You know that."

"I know. I just don't want to be with strangers."

"I know, my boy."

"So," said the youngling, "how long ago were you on Earth?"

"Oh, Primus, that was a few hundred mega-cycles ago. You weren't created yet. All the humans we were friends with are dead now, sadly. Humans only live for about eighty mega-cycles, or sometimes more. And sometimes, even less."

"That's sad," whimpered the little 'bot, "I'm glad we're not humans."

"Me too. Let's sing a song now, yes?"

"…No. I'm too sad to sing."

'Oh, Primus,' thought Prowl Senior, alarmed, 'he's easily depressed. He's just a youngling for crying out loud.'

"Prowl, let's just keep talking, okay? You know it worries me when you get sad."

"I know," said the youngling, "I don't like it either. Will you tell me a story?"

"Yes."

The journey continued, with Prowl Senior telling old Cybertronian stories and lullabies to his godson, who eventually fell asleep listening. When he heard the soft whirring of the child's systems going into recharge, Prowl senior stopped talking and continued to move on.

It had been so heart-breaking after Bluestreak's death. His only son, the little one he had named after the law officer, had been so small and helpless, and so very alone. Bluestreak had no significant other to care for the child, and so the responsibility had fallen to Prowl Senior, who, somewhat reluctantly, took the child in and soon became attached to him.

Little Prowl had also fallen in love with his godfather, never wanting to leave his side and always wanting his full attention. He was one of the cutest Cybertronians Prowl Senior had ever met, and so spent as much of his energy as he could on simply being there for and protecting his little godson.

Except now, he had to face the inevitable: he was going to die soon himself, and little Prowl needed to be given a new home before it happened. No child ever deserved to be abandoned or uncared for, and the law enforcer knew damn well he wasn't going to be responsible for any form of neglect. He loved the little one far too much to ever let anything awful happen to him.

Solar-cycles passed. The journey was almost over, just a few breems left before they reached the small Cybertronian village of Su. Prowl didn't know much of the practice, but judging by the village's name, he assumed it had originated here.

"Youngling," he called softly, "wake up. We're here." Little Prowl, who had spent much of his time recharging, opened his optics and rubbed the sleep out of them. He stood up groggily and looked out of Prowl Senior's window.

"It's really tiny," he said, "where did the city go?"

"We left the city, Prowl. This is the village of Su, where we will meet Master Wildburner."

"Oh." He yawned sleepily, then said, "Who's that?"

"Master Wildburner?" said Prowl Senior, finding himself quite surprised, "I told you, he's the mech we're going to see. Maybe he'll let you live here with all the other little Autobots."

"…What? No! I wanna stay with you!" Oh boy, not this again. Prowl decided the best course of action this time was to ignore the little one's pleas and cries and just search for this Master Wildburner. Prowl plucked the upset youngling out of his seat and transformed, holding him in his arms as the youngling screamed and cried and latched tightly to his elder's arm.

His cries drew people put of their homes, coming close to Prowl to see the tiny thing in his arms. Each Cybertronian Prowl senior glanced at was in the most amazing shape he'd ever seen; even the very old looked like they could destroy him with a single kick. Everyone here, he realized, practiced the art of Circuit-Su. He looked around uneasily and tried to shush the distressed youngling, but it only created more problems. Luckily for Prowl, however, the residents of Su seemed to have no problem with it.

"Aw!" said one of the femmes, clutching her spark-mate's arm, 'he's so precious!" An older couple smiled and said to Prowl,

"What a darling little youngling you have there, dearie. He's so cute!" Prowl Senior was shocked—he'd expected everyone to be annoyed with the screaming child, but they seemed more thrilled by him. Finally, after a few breems of people surrounding the child and his godfather, the crowd broke away and only a small handful remained. One of the mechs looked at Prowl, then said,

"Come. I suppose you are looking for Master Wildburner? We will take you to him." Prowl nodded and said,

"Thanks, fellas. I wasn't really sure what I was going to do after that."

"Oh," laughed the mech, "that. No, don't be alarmed. The residents of Su love children. The practice of Circuit-Su teaches the beauty of logic and all things natural. Normally, in the city areas, a crying child is considered a nuisance and a burden. Here, we understand that it is only natural and logical that a child would behave as such, and so, we find beauty in it. Your child is not afraid of anything."

"He's afraid of me dying," Prowl said sadly, "he's very clingy, unfortunately. He relies on others too much for support."

"We can change that. There is nothing wrong with needing someone; however, relying on oneself is crucial. If you cannot rely on yourself, then who can you rely on?" Prowl pondered this, then said,

"You're absolutely right! That's really brilliant."

"It is not brilliance, officer. It is simply logic. Too many people today fail to use their logic processors and simply rush right into things. The Decepticons were such a group. They never thought about what they were doing to hurt others, which in turn would hurt them. They saw their goal, but never saw the obstacles. They did not use logic, and that is why they failed."

"Yep," said Prowl, cradling his godchild gently, "it's the truth."

"Here, officer," the mech stopped before a very plain, metal door, "Master Wildburner is in here. Just knock and he will let you in." The mech bowed and leapt into nowhere, shocking Prowl; it was like the mech had simply disappeared! He shook his head and knocked three times, nice and loud. He was, of course, always all business, and this was business, was it not?

The door opened, but there was no one there. Peering in, Prowl called,

"Hello? Master Wildburner? My name is Officer Prowl, an Autobot from the city. I—"

"Enter," called a soft voice. It was not old, nor was it very young. Prowl obeyed and entered the room, with little Prowl gripping his arm tightly.

"PoPo?" he whispered, "I'm scared. It's dark in here." Prowl nodded and said,

"You've got that right, buddy. Hello?" The silence lingered for another moment, and then Prowl nearly jumped out of his shell: something moved on the ceiling, he swore to Primus he'd seen it! He ran for the door, only to find it slamming itself and locking. Little Prowl, now very terrified, began to cry and scream. He wanted to leave this scary place, and he wanted to leave NOW.

"PoPo," he sobbed, "PoPo…." Prowl Senior was getting angry. Finally, he yelled,

"SLAG IT, SHOW YOURSELF! CAN'T YOU SEE YOU'RE SCARING A HELPLESS KID?!" There was a scuffling sound somewhere above him and then, light. Prowl sighed, and little Prowl's sobs ceased almost immediately. The officer shook his head, then turned around to look for any sign of this so-called Master, and screamed as he came face-to-face with the upside down head of an Autobot only slightly younger than himself. The scream re-triggered little Prowl, who instantly began to cry and scream in his godfather's arms again.

The upside-down Autobot laughed and dropped gracefully and soundlessly to the floor, where he stretched out his arms and said,

"Welcome to Su, Officer. I am Master Wildburner."

"Really," growled Prowl angrily, "and here I thought you were just some crazy old coot. Why were trying to scare us like that?"

"Oh, no," laughed the ninja, "no, no, my friend, I do not scare. I simply enjoy having fun. Although I do apologize for frightening the little one, I didn't mean to scare him so."

"Right," said Prowl, not all together convinced. "Listen, I'm here to discuss the little one. I need help." Master Wildburner nodded and said,

"Sit. You may let the child roam in here; this room is safe. No weapons to play with. Would you like some energon?"

"After a scare like that? Yeah," answered Prowl gruffly. Master Wildburner nodded and retrieved some of his energon, with a piece of energon candy for little Prowl. He knelt down before the two and handed the officer the drink, then offered the child the candy. Little Prowl rejected it, hiding himself as best he could in his godfather's arms and whimpering softly.

"So," said the Master, placing the candy near little Prowl and getting comfortable, "tell me what brings you to Su. You said it had to do with the child—may I ask for your names?"

"We're both named Prowl. He calls me 'PoPo'. I'm his godfather. My friend Bluestreak left the child to me after his death, and we've been together for a while. However, I'm afraid I'm getting on in years, and soon, I won't be around to care for him anymore."

"I see. And what brought you to Su, and not to one of the various youngling shelters?"

"Autobot Medical Officer Ratchet told me about you," said Prowl, taking a sip of his energon.

"Ah," smiled the Master, "yes. Ratchet has been most helpful here. He has taken care of many broken parts. He can fix anything! Is he a friend, or just your doctor?"

"We both fought the Decepticons alongside with Optimus Prime."

"Oh my! You two were part of Prime's team? Exciting! Unfortunate that Prime had to die…very sad, very sad….I'm sorry…you were saying?"

"Oh. Well, Ratchet told me about this place, and I decided to check it out with the kid. I won't enroll him until he's at least an orn older, but it's important that he sees the place before I have to leave him. Do you…you do take younglings, don't you?"

"Oh, yes," said Master Wildburner, "yes, I do. We have a program for younglings who choose to be here, however. They are sent to us from the youngling homes, and only if they choose to come here. That's why you didn't see many children out there."

"Oh," said Prowl, his spark sinking, "I see. Well, then…"

"Now, now, officer, hold on," said Master Wildburner, lifting a hand up, "I will take him. Your situation is odd, and I'm assuming you drove a long way to reach us. However, if you do leave him with us, I suggest you discuss it with him, and even leave some video chips of yourself, explaining yourself to him. As he grows older, he may become angry that you 'left him'. My own creator did this for me when he left me, and it made things much easier for me, even in my adolescent 'bot years."

"That's a good idea," said Prowl, nodding in agreement, "I'll do that."

"Very well," said Master Wildburner, "it's settled. We—oof!"

BOOM.

Prowl jumped to his feet and said to the master,

"Wildburner, are you all right?!" The master looked up at Prowl and said,

"Decepticons!"

"We banished them, Wildburner. They aren't—WHOA!"

Another loud blast outside told Prowl the opposite was true. He handed little Prowl, who was screaming and crying again. to Master Wildburner, and tried to protest, but the officer wouldn't hear of it.

"No," he said, "If it's a Decepticon, I want to kill it." And he ran out of the small house into a crowd of prepared Circuit-Su ninjas. They were all completely still, not one of them moved. Prowl shifted his optic ridge as he stared at what he considered 'weirdness', but had no time to dwell on it. Another blast somewhere behind him brought his attention to what he recognized as a Decepticon.

"HALT!" he yelled, throwing up a hand and thrusting up a weapon, "YOU ARE UNDER ARREST, DECEPTICON!" The Decepticon turned its attention to the officer, then laughed harshly.

"Autobot Prowl. I hoped I would someday take you out myself. The name's Steelwind, not that it matters. Prepare to die, Autobots!" Prowl leapt upon Steelwind and smashed his fist into the evil mech's jaw. Steelwind simply laughed and hissed,

"Too bad for you I'm a suicide bomber, Autobot." Prowl's optics widened.

"What?" The officer suddenly gasped in disbelief as Steelwind laughed harshly, then….

BOOM.

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Hoo, boy... REVIEW!!! I like to know if people like it or not, and if it needs help. 


	3. Chapter 3

**Moving along, moving along... At this point, Animated Prowl is an adolescent, and I don;t knwo if there is a Cybertronian term for that. Just know that he has a lot of flashbacks and he tends to blank out occasionally.**

**REVIEW!**

**-Juana

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**Three**

Half of Su was destroyed, but amazingly, no one had been killed.

Well, almost no one. Master Wildburner ran to Prowl's side, still carrying little Prowl in his arms. The youngling was screaming for his PoPo, and Wildburner knew there was only one thing to do.

"PoPo…?" the youngling asked timidly as he stared into the burning debris of what had once been the east side of the village, "PoPo?"

"I…little one…" Prowl coughed, reaching his hand for his youngling, "I…love…you…." He became still. Little Prowl's sobs ceased suddenly. His optics were wide and still full of tears, but there was no screaming or sobbing to go with them. It was like the child had gone into shock.

"PoPo…."

"Prowl? PROWL." Two fingers snapped before his optics, but he paid no attention. He continued to stare at the top of the wall, retrieving the memory of his lost godfather once again. He heard nothing, saw nothing and felt nothing.

Until a firm shake told him he'd drifted off into la-la land again. He shook himself out of his daze and turned his head slightly to the side to face his teacher.

"I apologize, Master Wildburner. I lost my focus again."

"Clearly," answered Wildburner, but not harshly. His expression was that of concern.

"Prowl, after class today, I'd like to speak with you."

"Yes, sir."

He turned around at the sound of whispering and shot his classmates a dark look. They shut their mouths and resumed their work. Prowl returned to his own work, attempting to read whatever his master had assigned them, but found it impossible to focus on. He sighed silently and simply pretended to read until the literacy class had ended for the day. Both he and Master Wildburner waited for the other students to leave the room before Wilbdurner said,

"Come here, Prowl. Let's talk." The adolescent 'bot obeyed and walked over to his master, then plopped down in the floor before him. Master Wildburner took a moment to look at his most troubled student before saying,

"Were you thinking about your godfather again, Prowl?"

"Yes," Prowl answered automatically. They'd had this conversation before, 'one thousand eighty-seven times', thought Prowl sadly.

"I see," said Wildburner. "Listen, Prowl, I understand how hard it was for you when he died, but he died a hero. You know that."

"I know."

"Do you know your grades are slipping?"

"I know," Prowl said again, this time tonelessly.

"Do you care at all? Do you want to be here?" The question caught the adolescent off-guard. He'd expected more of a small tongue-lashing about his grades and academic performance, but a question regarding his desire to be here? It was different, to say the least. He shook his head and said,

"Master, you know I want to be here. My godfather wanted me here, and so I want to be here."

"So then this decision isn't about you, it's about him, is it?"

"I—"

"Prowl, you're growing up. Normally I would never be so crazy as to say this to a teenager, but you need to decide who you want to be, not what others want you to be. Most kids your age are out there, getting in trouble, making mistakes and finding people they can relate to. You don't even attempt to go out with your peers here. You've never done a bad thing in your life. Circuit-Su is important, but so is your life. I got into all kinds of trouble at your age."

"I don't want to get into trouble, sir."

"I know you don't, my boy. I'm happy you think like that, but it worries me."

"I don't understand, Master. You scold the others for their behavior, with their graffiti and their loud music and those movies you found in Mechafrost and Thunderblast's room, and now you scold me because I'm actually being responsible. What am I supposed to think? What am I supposed to do?"

"You're supposed to think about the future. You linger on the past, Prowl. It's hurting you."

"Master," Prowl shifted uncomfortably, "I'm fine. Honest. I just…need to work harder, is all."

"Don't make yourself sick, Prowl. Is there anything else you need to talk about? Any questions about anything? You know, you're in a stage of your life when everything is topsy-turvy and confusing, so if you need to get something off your chest, please tell me about it. Femmes, bonding, changes in your body, anything. Have you been taking any energon? You're very thin. What about recharging? Are you recharging well?"

"No, Master, none of those things. Just the usual. Can we drop it now? Please?" Master Wildburner sighed, then answered,

"Yes, Prowl. Just remember, anytime you need to talk, you knew where to find me."

"Yes, sir." Prowl got to his feet, grabbed his literacy pads and left the room quietly. Master Wildburner watched his student leave the room before sighing.

'I do hope he asks for help soon,' he thought sadly.

Prowl walked back to his dorm and threw his literacy pads on the floor beside his berth. His roommate wasn't back yet, so he took the free time to lay down on his berth and stare at the ceiling. He off-lined his optics and tried to think of something happy, but once again, his thoughts drifted to his godfather.

"PoPo," he mumbled softly as the awful memory of his godfather's death swept over him again. He felt his entire body going into a much-needed recharge. He never would have told his master he wasn't getting his rest, it would have alarmed the old man. No, Prowl just kept his problems to himself and told no one anything. He relied only on himself, and that was how it was going to be.

He felt as though he were floating, although he knew such a feat was not possible unless he were a Decepticon, and he would never be one of those pit-slagging bastards. Prowl's body was so tired and his mind was so cluttered with negative feelings and thoughts that merely recharging felt like a wonderful dream.

A powerful hand shook him back to consciousness. He groaned and turned his head to see his roommate standing over him with a concerned look on his face.

"Hey, Prowl," he said, "you okay? You were talkin' in your sleep again."

"Nng…I'm fine, Hydroclaw," growled Prowl irritably, "I was recharging, you know."

"I know," said Hydroclaw, shrugging. "The first recharge you've had in a while. If this "I'm not going to recharge" thing goes on, I'm going to inform Master Wildburner."

"No, you aren't," growled Prowl threateningly, "you won't utter even a word to him, you hear me? I don't need anyone getting involved in my life. Not you, not Wildburner, not even Primus himself. No one, got it, _Hydroclaw_?" He said his roommate's name with such poison in his voice that Hydroclaw shuddered and answered,

"S-sure thing, Prowl. Sorry I said anything. Get some rest, okay? I'll just be over on my berth, reading—"

"You don't need to tell me your life's story, 'Claw. Just leave me alone."

"Right, sorry." Hydroclaw turned around and left his roommate, concern still written on his face. But Prowl didn't care—he didn't want anyone to care about him. He took care of himself, and that was that. Easy as energon pie. He needed no one, not now, not ever.

Of course, Prowl's lack of friends concerned just about everyone in Su Village, and it was no surprise that many people tried to reach out to him, attempting to talk to him, or get some kind of response from him that wasn't angry, annoyed or arrogant. Master Wildburner told people that Prowl was going through "that stage" in his development, and so it was nothing to worry about, but the truth was that Master Wildburner was by far the most worried about his student. Ever since Prowl Senior had died in the Decepticon's suicide bomb attack, the cute little youngling had grown to be introverted and hard to be around.

Prowl turned over on his berth and returned easily to his recharge. He hadn't slept in quite some time, and he was starting to feel the effects of denying himself that necessary rest. Flashbacks during class were always a bad sign, and even stubborn Prowl was able to recognize that. He could feel his roommate's optics on him, so he said,

"Hydroclaw, stop staring at my aft."

"Damn it, Prowl! I'm doing no such thing. I'm just worried about you, y'know? You're always so weird and freaky, no one knows what to think about or do around you."

Prowl was silent. He didn't respond in any way to Hydroclaw, and instead decided to return to his recharge. He could still feel Hydroclaw's optics on him, but he ignored it. Right now, getting some rest was the most important thing on his mind.

* * *

It was dark when Prowl woke up. He rubbed his optics and scanned the room for any sign of Hydroclaw. When he knew the room was devoid of any other living things, he sighed and got up to stretch. He did everything, from his arms, to his torso, to his legs, his back and his neck. He had a habit of being obsessive with stretching correctly and it was a common joke that he could stretch for orns if he really wanted to. He never responded to the joke, or any jokes for that matter, and simply brushed it off.

After stretching, he went outside to see if anything was going on. Luckily for him, the village was empty and quiet—everyone had gone home for the night and were recharging away happily.

'Good', Prowl thought with a rare grin. It always made practicing his silence and stealth that much easier. He would hear every mistake he made, therefore having a better chance at correcting himself than if he did it during the day, with everyone else practicing or bustling about.

Prowl began his routine by sneaking into Master Wildburner's monkey-bar like set behind his dojo. Prowl waited and listened for any sounds, then leapt silently onto the bars. He flipped, hung, jumped and balanced on the set, listening for his mistakes. He made none, but it wasn't good enough for him. Prowl told himself he had made a mistake somewhere; he just hadn't listened well enough.

He continued, on and on for what some would describe as 'forever'. Prowl didn't care—he needed to be perfect in the art of Circuit-Su, and slightly-less-than-perfect wasn't going to cut it. He had to be perfect for his PoPo, whether or not anyone knew or cared. He had no family alive left to impress or love, and so he had to hope their spirits watched. Prowl knew it was a lame thing to hope, but he held onto it nonetheless. It was all he really had in life, this hope that somewhere in the Matrix his family watched and were proud.

Unknown to Prowl, someone _was_ proud of him. Master Wildburner, upon first discovering Prowl had been sneaking into his practice set, had decided instead of scolding the boy, he would watch him improve. Prowl didn't pay attention in his classes, yet never had Wildburner seen a more devoted student so bent on achieving perfection than the quiet 'bot, and although it worried and concerned him, the Master still had to pass it off as a teenager thing. He would get over it, right?

"Augh!" Prowl's sudden cry in the silent night caused Master Wildburner to snap out of his concerned thoughts and focus on his student. Prowl had fallen, and he wasn't getting up. Instead, to Wildburner's horror, Prowl was rubbing his ankle; it was obvious he was biting back a scream. Wildburner ran outside to his student and knelt down beside him. The look of humiliation on Prowl's face was enough to keep Wildburner from calling for help. Instead, he said,

"You're hurt. I'm going to carry you inside and take a look at that ankle of yours, okay?"

"I'm fine, sir," said Prowl quietly, and he attempted to get up. But as soon as he applied pressure to his injured ankle, he cried out and fell back down. Wildburner knelt back down and said,

"Can I carry you in now?"

"…yes." Prowl sounded like his pride was hurt. Wildburner pretended not to notice.

"Thank you." And with that, the older mech, old though he was, easily lifted the smaller mech in his arms and carried him inside his little hut. He sat Prowl down on his berth and said,

"So, you sneak back there often?" He decided not to tell Prowl he already knew about it.

"No, sir," Prowl lied, "Never. I just wanted to practice tonight. I kind of slept all day, after literacy class."

"I see. Haven't you been getting enough rest on a regular basis?"

"Yes, sir." he lied again. Master Wildburner chuckled, then said,

"One thing about older mechs you should know, Prowl: we can detect a lie from miles away. So let's try this again: Have you been getting enough rest on a regular basis?"

Prowl was silent, telling his teacher all he needed to know.

"I see," he said again, this time thinking about his next verbal move. "Prowl."

"Yes, sir," the smaller mech responded tonelessly, avoiding his teacher's optics as best he could.

"I am going to call one of the local doctors to come check that ankle out. While we wait for them, you and I are going to talk. About everything that's been on your mind. This is an order, by the way. I'm not letting you leave until you open up." Prowl opened his mouth to protest, but thought better of it and held his silence. Master Wildburner opened up one of his communicator links to a nearby doctor, requesting help, then terminated the connection and sat beside Prowl.

"So," he said, "What's up?"

"The ceiling," Prowl snorted. It was a typical teenage thing to say, and both of them were surprised to hear it come out of Prowl's mouth. The younger mech looked down and apologized,

"I'm sorry, Master Wildburner. I didn't mean to be disrespectful."

"Prowl, it's okay. It's proof you're still an adolescent 'bot. I was worried you had become an adult already! But in all seriousness, you really need to tell me what's going on. I know you were thinking about your godfather earlier today. Is that what this is about?"

'And now it's at one thousand eighty-eight times," Prowl thought, recalling the earlier conversation they'd had today. He shrugged his shoulders and said,

"I really don't want to talk about it. Or anything. I just want to be left alone and practice."

"I know, my boy, I know." Wildburner thought for a moment, then said,

"When you dim your optics, what do you see?" Prowl gave his teacher a sarcastic look and answered,

"Nothing."

"No," said Wildburner, "what do you _see_? Do you see your godfather's death? Do you see the Decepticon? Do you see reasons to be the way you are?" Prowl pondered this for a moment before answering,

"Pretty much. What else am I supposed to focus on? Happy things?"

"Precisely!" Wildburner clapped his hands excitedly, "very good! Prowl, I think it's time I taught you meditation. Usually it is a practice I teach to students just a few orns older than you, simply because older people don't have those confusing adolescent thoughts in their heads, but I think you need it more."

"I 'need it'?" repeated Prowl is disbelief. He didn't want to tell his teacher that comment had hurt him; the last thing he needed was to appear weak. But honestly, who ever wants to hear they 'need' something to feel or be better? Prowl sighed and stared at his broken ankle and wondered when the slaggin' doctor would arrive. Wildburner seemed to have read his mind.

"Just a little while longer," he said quietly. "Now, then, let's talk about meditation. What do you know about it?"

"I know you do it. But I don't see any reason why anyone would want to sit still all day and do…I don't even know what you do with it." Wildburner smiled and said,

"Get comfortable. Usually when people meditate, they cross their legs, but considering you've broken yourself, we can settle for something else. All right, comfy? Now, place your arms…yes, the lower arm…good...onto your knees. Or near there. Good. Still comfy?"

"Yes, sir."

"Excellent. Now, off-line your optics entirely so you see nothing. What do you see?"

"Nothing."

"I know!" Master Wildburner laughed. He was a funny one, all right. Prowl groaned silently at the awful joke. He suddenly gasped as he felt his teacher's hands on his chest and back.

"You're slouching, Prowl. Sit up straight; it might hurt at first since you aren't used to it, but trust me, you'll thank me for it when you're older."

Prowl growled slightly and said,

"Master? This sucks." Wildburner laughed again and said,

"See? You're starting to sound like a real youngling! It's a miracle! Now, then, focus on all your negative feelings….place them in a cube, like you're storing them away….now, take that cube, filled with all your negative thoughts and feelings, and tell that cube what you think of them."

"Of who?" asked Prowl, confused and bored.

"The emotions, silly boy! Tell the cube what you think of those negative things."

"Out loud?"

"If you want."

"I…I…I feel like an idiot, Master Wildburner."

"That's how everyone feels, kiddo. Go on, say what you want to the cube."

"Uh…I…slag it, I can't do it!" Prowl brightened his optics and dropped his arms to his sides. He felt foolish and pathetic. How could he say what he wanted? He didn't deserve a chance like that! He sighed, then said,

"When is that damn doctor going to arrive?" Master Wildburner looked at his student and said sadly,

"Soon, my boy. We're going to try this again. I won't let the doctor in to see you until you talk to your mental cube."

"This is ridiculous," scoffed Prowl.

"So is your attitude," replied Wildburner, "Now do everything again, and tell the cube what you think of your negative emotions." Prowl glared daggers at his teacher, then gave up trying to fight him; it was no use. So he dimmed his optics, did the whole meditation shebang, and placed all his negative thoughts and feelings into an imaginary cube.

"Take a deep intake of air," instructed Master Wildburner, "and focus on what you've always wanted to say to those feelings."

Prowl did so, then became incredibly still. His mind didn't wander, as he thought it would, but instead he focused all his energy on the negative thoughts. It kind of felt nice, despite that Prowl thought he looked incredibly stupid doing it. He began to think of all the things he wished he could have said to his godfather before his unexpected death, he thought about his situation here in Su, and what his life would have been like in the city, he thought about what it must feel like to have someone be proud of him, and he thought of what it would be like to have a family.

"I…" he began out loud, much to Wildburner's surprise, "I…I just wish I had someone to care about me. I wish I had a family and friends, and I wish I wasn't such a pathetic loser, and—." He suddenly stopped, staying completely still. He made not a single sound, and it alarmed Wildburner, who waved his hand in front on Prowl's face.

"Prowl? Are you still there?" Prowl responded by falling over onto his back, unconscious. Wildburner stared at his student, shocked that the emotional impact had been too much for Prowl. The boy, clearly, had never allowed himself the luxury of discussing his feelings, and it had made him unwell. Wildburner could only wait for the doctor to arrive and check him out.

A few breems later, there was a knock on Wildburner's door and he answered it quickly, ushering the doctor in and telling him what was wrong.

"He broke his ankle while using my practice set outside, then I brought him in. I started to teach him mediation and to release his anger and negative feelings, and it caused him to pass out! I've never seen anything like it in my life!"

The doctor, an older Autobot, nodded and said,

"Yes, very odd indeed," he began to examine Prowl's ankle, "I would advise you to continue with these meditation sessions. If what you told me is true, then it seems to me that what he needs right now is a father figure or someone he can talk to and trust. Most adolescents can become very distant and feel they are all alone in the world. Prowl will need you to guide him during this time. Do not force him to do or say anything, it will only backfire on you. Just prod him along, and he'll open up eventually. Be patient with him, Master Wildburner."

"I've helped the village raise him so far, so I think I see why it's been so hard for him. He never had just one person to talk to, he had too many. He must have decided not to burden anyone with his problems."

"That would make sense," said the doctor. "There, I've fixed him up."

"Already? He'll be able to walk and everything?"

"Yes. He didn't break it, he just twisted it. He'll be okay. Just carry him back to his dorm and let him get some rest. He should wake up for his classes tomorrow. If not, send someone to check up on him. But I wouldn't worry." He shook hands with Wildburner, then added,

"Call me if you need any more help, but I think this one's going to be okay."

"Thank you, Doctor," bowed Master Wildburner, "I'm very grateful that you could come on such short notice."

"Think nothing of it," laughed the doctor, "I was home with my spark-mate, just talking. We do it every night, so it was no problem. See you later!"

"Thank you again, my friend!" waved Wildburner as the doctor left. He turned his attention back to the unconscious Prowl. He shook his head and lifted his student up and began to walk him back home.

Hydroclaw wasn't in his dorm when Master Wildburner kicked the door lightly, so the teacher let himself in and carefully placed Prowl down on his berth. He left quietly, thinking hard about how he was going to approach the issue again.

* * *

I hope I'm keeping him in character...

REVIEW!


	4. Chapter 4

**Disclaimer: ****Writers of fanfics don't own the franchise. **

**So, yeah, I;m just updating this quickly because I feel it's not one of my better fics. Whatever. I won't finish tonight, of course, I'm still writing it. But it should be done either this week (tonight is Feb. 20, 2008) or next week.**

**Usually the only way I can tell if people like a story is if they review it. But so far not too many people have said anything, so I'm assuming it's not that good. It'll be done soon for the people who did review it and like it, because hey, it's a free service that's fun to partake in.**

**After I post this chapter, I'm gonna go check out the lunar eclipse. It starts at 9:01 pm, bitches.**

**Post eclipse it was very pretty. Very awesome. Hope everyone saw it!**

**-Juana**

**Four**

When Prowl woke up, several hours later, he was surprised to find himself on his own berth. He couldn't remember if he had really been at his teacher's house, or if he had simply been in recharge all night, dreaming about breaking his ankle and meditating.

'It must be from a lack of rest,' he thought as he rubbed his optics. He checked the time, and, to his horror, found he was half a breem away from being late to class. He jumped to his feet (there was no pain in his ankle, so he decided he'd been dreaming) and grabbed his data pads before zooming to his class. He busted in through the door seconds before class began and took a seat, panting.

Master Wildburner was not yet at his place. Every student was there, and so, like all adolescents on all planets do, they began to talk amongst themselves, laughing, throwing things and making plans. Everyone, of course, except Prowl. He sat and waited silently for his teacher to arrive. He heard one student say that if Wildburner didn't show up in three breems, they could all leave. Prowl rolled his optics, knowing how much trouble they would all get into for obeying a false, student-made rule.

A breem went by before Master Wildburner stepped in and surveyed the classroom. Several students could be heard groaning in disappointment, while Prowl simply sat and waited for the lesson to begin. He glanced over at his teacher, and nearly jumped when he noticed he was being stared at.

"Master Wildburner? Are you okay?" The teacher answered,

"What? Oh, yes. I am. I was just wondering if your ankle was any better." Prowl's optics widened in surprise—so last night's crazy, hippie events had happened after all. Master Wildburner saw the surprise in his optics and said,

"We'll talk after class. Students, let's begin today's lesson by blah blah blah…."

One loud, simultaneous groan filled the room and carried for at least three quarters of a mile through the village.

* * *

After class, Prowl went to his teacher and said, 

"So tell me what happened. I remember nothing about last night."

"It's simple," said Wildburner, "you slipped while practicing on my set, hurt your ankle, and tried meditation. It made you faint for some odd reason. But we're going to continue meditation, practice until you no longer pass out from it." Prowl cocked his head to the side and asked,

"But, why did I faint? What could meditation possibly do to make me do that? You sit still and think!"

"You empty your mind, Prowl. The exercise I had you do last night was to help you try and release some of your anger. Apparently, you've locked deep, painful memories and thoughts in your processor that bringing them out disrupts your entire system. We're going to work on it, whether you want to or not." Prowl gave his teacher a look that told him he was not happy about the situation, but Wildburner simply said,

"You are not going to argue with me, youngling. This is for your own good, and it's clear you need it. We'll be meditating every evening, after your classes, for as long as it takes. We will practice in your dorm, seeing as Hydroclaw is never there anyways. Probably out with his girlfriends and buddies, am I right?"

"Yes, sir," answered Prowl sullenly. Master Wildburner pat Prowl on the shoulder, then said,

"You have another class, Prowl. Go, and I will meet you in your dorm afterwards. Keep an open mind. Do not fear meditation."

"Why would I fear it?" Prowl mumbled rudely as he gathered his data pads together. Wildburner did not respond. Instead, he simply waved Prowl off and waited until the younger mech was out of the room before he began to meditate on his own.

Prowl, however, was far from relaxed. No, he was pissed, and the only thing he could do was skip his class. He didn't care how much trouble he would be in for skipping, nor did he care about the punishment (twenty-five laps around the village); all he cared about was getting away from this stupid garbage he had to put up with. Who cared if he harbored anger? Who cared if he didn't do well academically? Who cared if he fainted during meditation? If Prowl didn't care, why should anyone else care?

'To make my life a living pit', he thought bitterly, 'I just want to be perfect in Circuit-Su, I just want to be a master of the art. Who the slag cares if I can meditate and read boring data pads? Any malfunctioning idiot can do that! Not everyone can do Circuit-Su, but I can.'

He stormed past Wildburner's house on his way to his dorm and looked through the window, expecting to see his teacher there, doing something lame. But to his surprise, Master Wildburner wasn't there. His curiosity brought him closer to the window until he had poked his head in and saw things he hadn't noticed the night before.

Master Wildburner had an impressive collection of weapons, right in plain sight! Sais, spark swords, shuriken….it was all beautiful to behold. Prowl, admittedly, had never seen a collection like it before, and had hoped for a very long time to have such a collection of his own.

As he stared at the beautiful objects in the room, he found himself most drawn to the shuriken. They were so small, yet so dangerous…on Cybertron, the smaller the person or object, the less dangerous and threatening it was. But these shuriken…triple-bladed glory in thin, palm-sized power…Prowl could not resist.

He silently snuck into Wildburner's house, expertly avoiding making sounds, despite the fact that no one was in the house, and slid carefully up to the display of many shuriken. He reached out to touch one, then drew his hand back as second thoughts began to seep his mind. His logic was returning, but for once, it was not helping. He wanted to take it, for the adrenaline rush his system would experience, and because Wildburner had said it himself:

"_'Most kids your age are out there, getting in trouble, making mistakes and finding people they can relate to…. I got into all kinds of trouble at your age._'" Prowl laughed softly as he realized that he had practically been given permission to be bad, and with that bit of logic, he pulled the shuriken from its place and ran off to his dorm to hide it.

He kept his cool as best he could while he walked to his dorm. He called out for Hydroclaw as a precaution, and upon finding his roommate out yet again, he moved into his room, all jittery from the small rush he was experiencing and locked the door.

Prowl jumped onto his berth and took out the stolen shuriken, gazing at its dangerous beauty with awe. It was so well cared for that it actually glinted in the artificial light whenever he turned it. Master Wildburner took great care of his belongings, and it showed. Prowl was being very careful with the shuriken, but not careful enough—his fingers trembled ever so slightly and the triple-bladed object slipped from his fingers. In a panic, he grabbed at it without thinking and ended up slicing his palm.

"OW!" he cried out, dropping the shuriken again. It landed safely on his berth, and he wondered why he hadn't let it do that in the first place.

"Damn it," he muttered to himself, annoyed that he had hurt himself yet again. 'At least it isn't a broken ankle', he thought.

'Should I go to a doctor for this?' Prowl knew that if he went to a doctor, he would be asked about how it happened, and the very thought of telling someone he had stolen from his teacher made him cringe. He was going to be in so much trouble!

"Oh slag! I still have to do that meditation thing with Wildburner tonight! He'll see my hand!" Prowl dimmed his optics and tried to calm himself as he attempted to think up a good lie to tell his teacher. As he thought, a small pool of oil was dripping from his palm onto his berth, and he wasn't aware of it until the oil snaked toward his leg. He snapped back to attention and glanced at the oil.

"Scrap." It was going to leave a stain, and Wildburner would definitely be suspicious. Prowl dimmed his optics again and leaned against the wall, pondering how he was going to lie about all this. He certainly couldn't return the shuriken now that he was bleeding all over the place…he would leave a trail for Wildburner to follow.

Prowl suddenly realized how very calm and peaceful he felt. All the usual tension he'd grown accustomed to was replaced by a soothing calm.

'What brought this on?' he wondered before the answer smacked him in the face. Of course, he'd read about this sort of thing before. He had read a data chip in a mental health class a long time ago that stated organic life forms, as well as Cybertronians who were desperate enough, would use some form of self-inflicted pain to make them feel better. Prowl had never once believed it himself, dismissing the idea as something only crazy, masochistic wack-a-doos did, but now that he was feeling it for himself, he knew his ill-conceived opinions were mere misconceptions.

He took in a deep intake of air, then picked up the shuriken, this time, a little less carefully. He did not wish to fear the weapon, he wanted to embrace it. It brought him a comfort he had not known since he was a sparkling, cared for by his godfather. He didn't hesitate or flinch as he dragged one of the blades across his arm and watched oil slowly rise from the wound.

Prowl compared this feeling to receiving a hug, and he wanted more. He sliced again, then again, and again. All the pressure he felt, his obsession with being the perfect Circuit-Su master, subsided with each slice, and it felt so amazing! He loved it all so much, it was—

"OW!" he suddenly cried out unexpectedly. His pain sensors were finally rebelling against him and the blade, sending painful messages to his processor. Prowl stopped and stared at what he'd done and it dawned on him that he'd lost all sense of logic during the episode.

'Oh, Primus,' he thought, 'how am I going to hide this? How am I going to _explain_ this? They'll send me away, they'll think I'm insane!' Prowl took in another deep intake of air and tried to think of a solution. He needed to have an accident, a public accident that everyone would see. He would have to pretend he'd cut himself doing some crazy stunt, or getting into a fight. That would work, and he knew it. Master Wildburner would fall for that, easy-no-problem.

Prowl looked down at his berth and gasped at the puddle of oil on his bed. Somehow, he'd forgotten it during his blissful moments of stress relief. Beginning to feel panicky again, he got off his berth, rather shakily, hid the shuriken in personal chest of belongings and retrieved his towel, used mainly for wiping off lubricant during intense training sessions. He jogged back to his bed and began to wipe his arm, then did the same to his berth. He checked the time, and nearly had a spark attack as he realized that the class he'd skipped would be over in only a few breems. Master Wildburner would arrive soon!

"Slagslagslagslagslag…." Prowl swore out loud as he tried to cleaned the berth and himself as best he could without leaving any indication of what he'd done. He was successful in cleaning his berth, but his arm was an entirely different matter. He had no idea how he was going to explain the brand new scars he'd acquired, and he had no way of hiding them. He thought about painting it over, but that would hurt so much! A new coat of paint over fresh wounds…the stinging would be awful.

"Slag," he muttered as he walked with his stained towel to the students' community cleansing booths. He climbed in and turned on a faucet, then used the cleaning fluid that poured out to clean his towel and arm. Perhaps he could convince Master Wildburner that he was feeling unwell…Prowl considered purging his tanks just as his teacher entered, convincing him that Prowl needed to be alone.

'No,' he thought, 'Wildburner would just use that as a better excuse to work on meditation. Slag.'

"Prowl! Hey, Prowl!" Prowl suddenly stopped what he was doing and listened carefully. Hydroclaw was calling for him, probably to tell him Master Wildburner had arrived. Prowl called back,

"Thanks. Tell him I'm going to be a little late. I hurt myself outside and I'm still bleeding."

"Oh," answered Hydroclaw, "okay then. I'll tell him that. Good luck!"

"Yeah, thanks," Prowl muttered. He finished cleaning himself up, hung up his towel to dry and made the tortuously long journey back to his dorm room. The door was open, and Master Wildburner stood by his berth, not looking at all suspicious. He smiled at Prowl and said,

"Hydroclaw says you hurt yourself. Doing what, exactly?" Prowl lied,

"Oh, I was running to my next class and I tripped. I threw my arm out to catch myself, but I ended up just scratching it up on a really rough patch of ground. You know how Cybertron has those prickly patches."

"Hmm," replied Wildburner, "May I see?" A jolt of panic swept through Prowl, so he said,

"Oh, no, Master. It's pretty gross, you don't want to see it. There was oil all over the place, so I took a shower to clean it off. I even tried to use my towel to stop it, but it ended up just getting all oily. You don't need to see it."

"But I would like to, Prowl. Now let me see or I'll see it by force." Prowl was stuck. He did his best to keep his face straight and held out his arm for his teacher to see. Wildburner took his wrist and examined the many scars, some of which were still leaking. He made no sounds as he looked them over, then said,

"Very gross, indeed. Prowl, did you go to your class today?"

"No, sir."

"Good boy. I already knew you hadn't. Glad to know you won't lie to me. You would never lie to me about anything, right?"

"Of course not, sir." Prowl could feel his spark beating itself up as he told the lie, but he maintained a straight demeanor, keeping his optics on his teacher. Wildburner looked back at him, almost piercingly, as though he were trying to read Prowl's thoughts, but he shook his head and said,

"All right, kiddo. Let's get started on meditation. It'll get your mind off that nasty wound."

"Yes, sir," Prowl answered obediently. He sat down on his berth and took the same stance he'd learned yesterday, waiting for Master Wildburner's instructions. The teacher watched his student closely, then said,

"All right, yesterday we worked on emptying your mind and placing all your negative thoughts into a cube. What else?"

"You wanted me to tell the negative feelings what I thought of them. I don't remember what I said, if I said anything at all." Master Wildburner nodded and answered,

"You fainted right after you spoke. You said you wished you had a family, that you wanted to know what your life would have been like in the city, and you seemed to have this delusional idea that you were pathetic."

"I am pathetic," Prowl snorted in reply. Wildburner shook his head and said,

"Only if you believe it to be true, my boy. Close your eyes and place those feelings in the cube. Talk to them, tell them what you think of them. Are you angry at them, do you hate them? Or do you love and embrace them?"

Prowl did as he was told, and tried to think of anything he had ever loved. He had loved his godfather, but his PoPo had died so suddenly that it was like they had never really known each other. Prowl hated the Decepticon that took his PoPo away from him and left him alone in this small village, but he couldn't take his anger out on the slagger: he'd been killed at the same time as Prowl Senior.

"I miss my Po—I mean, my godfather," he said sadly, trying his best to keep tears from leaking down his cheeks, "and I hate that fragging Decepticon that took him away from me." At this point, Prowl had forgotten he was supposed to be meditation and held his head in his hands, trembling and sobbing as quietly as he could. He felt alone, unwanted, pathetic and useless….

Until a very strong pair of arms unexpectedly wrapped themselves around him, squeezing tightly and offering him a protection he'd never felt before. He threw his own arms around Wildburner and sobbed into his shoulder, forgetting about being embarrassed and finally releasing all his emotions. This lasted for several breems, Wildburner holding his student while Prowl felt, for the first time, that he could trust someone and feel safe.

Prowl sniffed and rubbed his optics almost child-like. He glanced up at Wildburner and said softly,

"Thank you, sir. I needed that." Wildburner answered with a smile,

"I know you did. You've made a lot of progress, kiddo. Do you want to continue, or stop here?"

"We can continue," Prowl answered.

"Very well." For the rest of the night, Wildburner instructed Prowl in the ways of meditation, and Prowl, being a very quick student (as long as it wasn't academic), was absorbing it all in and learning more from it than he ever would have thought he would. He didn't even faint this time.

Unfortunately, the next few days were going to be like living in the Pit.


	5. Chapter 5

**Disclaimer: ****Writers of fanfics don't own the franchise. **

**Five**

The next morning, Prowl woke up from his first real recharge in a long time. He stretched himself out, amazed that he was waking up at the same time as everyone else. He was so used to being awake during the recharging hours that the mere act of waking up was a surprise. Prowl looked across the room and saw that Hydroclaw wasn't quite ready to get up. That was fine by Prowl.

He knelt down to his trunk and retrieved the stolen shuriken. He hid it in his chassis and walked to the dorm's cleansing stalls, where he locked himself safely away from other students and stared at the sharp object.

Last night had been the best thing he'd ever experienced. The feeling of being loved and cared about was so amazing that it was overwhelming, and Prowl wasn't quite sure yet of how to handle it. Part of him didn't believe he'd deserved it, while another part of him wanted more. And yet another part was scared of the new feelings, unsure of what to make of them.

Prowl had only one solution for the confusion, and he was looking at it. He knew it wasn't the healthiest stress and confusion reliever, but he didn't care. He swiped the blade across his arm a few times, and dimmed his optics as he waited for it to kick in. Moments later, he sighed and cleaned the oil off and returned to his room.

He hid the shuriken again and grabbed his data pads. He gave Hydroclaw, who was still in bed, a rough shake and said,

"Get up. You have class in five breems." Hydroclaw responded with a yawn and something that sounded like, "gimme another breem…." Prowl didn't really care that much, considering he had skipped a class yesterday himself. He left their room and closed the door, then dashed towards his first class of the day, Cybertronian history.

Class came and went, and once again, Prowl found himself racing to another class. As he ran to his quantum physics class, he noticed a little shop that he'd never paid much attention to before. He stopped running and read the sign, which said:

_'Scars? Dents? Mild Damage? Look no further! Steelblast has a solution for all your needs. Walk-ins okay.' _There was smaller print beneath the main headline, so Prowl leaned in to read it. '_We understand that part of becoming a Master of Circuit-Su means taking a real beating everyday. That's why Doctor Steelblast developed over-armor, custom made to fit your body, to hide all that damage. Walk-ins accepted, no need to make an appointment! Even Master Wildburner has needed our services before!"_

Prowl was almost shocked—it was like Primus himself had smiled upon the young 'bot. Prowl couldn't believe it---a solution to his scar problem! Now he could take his stress away and hide the damage anytime he wanted to! It was a miracle! Prowl made a mental note to visit this Doctor Steelblast later that day and ask for help before he skipped happily off to class again.

* * *

After quantum physics, Prowl raced back to the shop and stopped right outside it. He looked around, watching for any movement or anyone who could be spying on him, then walked calmly into the shop.

"Hello?" he called. There was a rustling somewhere in the back of the shop, then an older mech, covered in old scars and dents, came out and went to meet his visitor.

"Well, hello there, youngling," the mech smiled, "The name's Steelblast. And you are…?"

"I, um…I'm Prowl, sir."

"Prowl, huh? You related to the war hero Prowl? He was a law enforcer."

"He was my godfather, sir. He died—"

"Ah, I remember," cut in Steelblast, "And you were the little tyke he brought with him, eh? He was gettin' old, young man. He was going to leave this world sooner than you thought. He brought you here so you'd have a home."

"I'm sorry?" asked Prowl, surprised at how personal the conversation had gotten. Steelblast laughed and said,

"I'm good friends with Chief medical Officer Ratchet, back in the city. He was a close friend of your godfather's, called me up to let me know he was bringing a youngling to Su. Told me everything. Your godfather knew he was on his way out, and he didn't want to just leave you anywhere. He decided Su would be a safe place for you. Master Wildburner told me you were having some difficulties with it lately."

"What?" said Prowl, starting to get angry, "He told you this? That's supposed to be confidential, isn't it?"

"My boy," said Steelblast, placing a hand on Prowl's shoulder, "I'm a doctor. He can tell me anything he needs to protect his students. Wildburner likes you, kid. He's impressed with your skills in the art of Circuit-Su. Says you do a fantastic job." Despite his anger, Prowl had to smile slightly at the compliment. It felt good to hear something positive.

"So," continued the doctor, "what're ya here for, kiddo?"

"Oh! I wanted to ask if you could help me with some scarring."

"May I see?"

"Yes, sir," answered Prowl. He held out his arm and let the doctor see. Steelblast took Prowl's wrist and examined the scars carefully. He immediately recognized them as shuriken damage, so he said,

"Practicin' with the shurikens already, are ya? I thought Wildburner waited until you guys were done with your academic studies." Prowl felt as though his spark had been extinguished.

"Oh…oh, no, sir," he stammered, "No, it's not that. I, uh…I was running to a class yesterday and I tripped. I tried to catch myself, but I ended up hurting my arm. It's not from a sh—"

"Yes, it is, boy. These are clean cuts. If you had hurt yourself outside, don't you think these would be a little more jagged, a little rougher? Don't lie to your elders. How did this happen?"

"I…I…tried using one. I….stole it from Master Wildburner because I thought I was ready to practice with them. But I was wrong. I didn't know how to use them, and every time it came back to me, it sliced my arm. I…made a mistake. I'm sorry, sir." Prowl could only hope the doctor would buy this lie. He waited, trying to read the mech's expression, but it was to no avail. Moments later, Steelblast replied,

"All right. You're not the first to do it, kid. I've seen this a few times before. Before I help you out, you have to go to Master Wildburner, return the shuriken to him and tell him why you stole it. Is that understood?"

"Yes, sir," Prowl answered tonelessly.

"I'm going to call him tonight to see if you did it. I'll go searching for you too if you don't return it or tell him you stole it. Don't just leave it there. Talk to him, you hear?"

"…."

"I said, do you hear me?" Prowl, in total disbelief, nodded slowly and answered,

"Yes, sir. I hear you."

"Good boy. Now go. You have a shuriken to return."

"Yes, sir." Prowl turned around and walked out of the shop, jittery and freaked by what had just happened. He suddenly hated himself for ever stealing that damn weapon; all it was doing was making his life even more of a living Pit. He was so upset and so angry that the moment he opened the door to his dorm, he retrieved the shuriken and made several quick slices into his arm.

"Whoa…." Prowl suddenly stopped when he heard the voice behind him. Slowly he turned around and found himself looking at Hydroclaw, who was sitting on his berth and typing a report. Hydroclaw stared at his roommate's arm, dripping with oil, then said,

"Hey, man. You okay?" Prowl didn't answer him. Instead, he simply stared at Hydroclaw with cold, glowering optics. Hydroclaw's optics went from the bleeding arm to Prowl's face, which was absolutely threatening. Hydroclaw slowly and quietly put his portable computer down on his berth, got up and backed out of the room, saying,

"I think I'll leave you alone for now. Just promise me you won't kill yourself."

"I won't kill myself."

"Cool. Yeah, cool. All right. Take your time, man. I'll…I'll go bother my friends."

"You do that." Prowl sounded very angry, so Hydroclaw bolted out the door backwards and ran off. Prowl closed the door after him silently, locked it and sat down on his own berth. He stared at the ugly marks on his arm angrily as it dawned on him that he was not well.

'I'm pathetic,' he thought angrily, 'I'm pathetic, and stupid. I'm weak for doing this. I'm weak, and worthless. I can't stand this anymore…I gotta kill myself.' As Prowl thought these horrible, untrue things, he began to sob: it frightened him that he was thinking them. How could one's desire to be perfect at the only thing they knew about cause so much trouble? How could Prowl cause himself so much pain just from this stupid need to be absolutely perfect? The anger and hurt was boiling inside him, and he did the only thing he could do, and that was make more slices in his arm. In his frustration, he went for his other arm, attacking nearly every inch of it until it was an oily mess.

But it still wasn't enough. He hurt so bad inside, there was no soothing rush involved in the episode. No, instead there was an awful shiver running though him, a shiver that was the result of his own fear and shock. He hated what he felt, he hated that he felt it, and he hated himself for being so weak. Both arms were dripping, and it still wasn't enough.

Prowl attacked his legs, his chassis, his ankles, every part of his body he could reach, and yet he continued to live. He should have off-lined by now! What was wrong with him? He felt only slightly woozy, but he wasn't fainting.

Prowl lay down on his berth, this time not caring whether or not he stained it with oil. He pressed his head in his hands and sobbed, angry, confused and unhappy. Why was he doing this now? Why not several hundred solar-cycles ago? He'd always been angry and confused and unhappy, yet now was the time he chose to treat himself like slag.

He hurt so badly. Why didn't the pain stop? Why wouldn't it just leave him alone? Why wasn't he dying? He was leaking oil like it was his job…no mech should survive such loss. He continued to lay there, crying his optics out so hard that he failed to notice someone stealthily entering his room. Prowl whimpered as a strong pair of hands took both his wrists and pulled his own hands away from his face.

"No," he pleaded, "don't look at me…please, don't look…."

Master Wildburner was not the kind to take orders from his own students. He pulled Prowl back up into a sitting position and held the bleeding arms gently, being careful not to hurt his already-hurting student.

"I…I locked my door, Master," Prowl said slowly, "How did y—"

"I'm a Master of Circuit-Su, my boy. I can do anything." Prowl kept his optics cast downward, afraid to look at his teacher and, he suddenly realized, his father figure. He didn't want this perfect person to see how weak and worthless he was, it was humiliating! But Master Wildburner was clearly having none of that negative attitude. He gently reached up and cupped Prowl's chin in his strong fingers and tilted his head upwards. They looked in each other's optics for a moment, then Prowl whispered,

"Did Hydroclaw tell you ab—"

"My good friend Steelblast told me. Hydroclaw ran in all panicked right after I ended my call with 'Blast, and I knew you were in danger. Let's get you to a doctor." Wildburner helped Prowl to his feet and they both began to move slowly toward the door. Hydroclaw was waiting outside, and the moment he saw his roommate, he transformed into his vehicle mode and opened up for Prowl to climb inside. Wildburner helped him in, then transformed into his own vehicle mode, and led the way towards the best doctor in the village.

They unloaded Prowl, who was starting to feel faint, and Wildburner walked him into the office, where a nurse ran to them and helped the old mech with his student. The nurse said to Wildburner,

"Don't worry, sir. We'll take care of him. Sparring accident?"

"Something like that, yes," answered Wildburner, keeping his cool as best he could. The nurse didn't seem to notice his well-hidden fear, and he walked away, helping Prowl keep his balance, leaving Wildburner alone in the waiting section. The older mech sat down on the floor (there were no chairs) and held his head in his hands and allowed himself to cry silently. Never in his long life had he ever dealt with such a depressing issue. He had seen death, yes, but he had never witnessed anyone he cared for hating themselves to the point of parasuicide.

'Why has Prowl done this?' he thought as he cried, 'why did my wonderful student hurt himself so? What happened?' Wildburner tried to think of any reason he could for Prowl's dangerous behavior, but he highly doubted that missing his godfather was enough to be the cause of it. It never once crossed his mind that Prowl thought he was inferior and pathetic.

Mega-cycles passed. The nurse returned, along with a doctor, and the two sat down with Wildburner, who had fallen into recharge while waiting.

"Oh, dear, I'm sorry," he mumbled as he brought himself back online, "Is everything…is Prowl going to be all right?" The doctor smiled and answered,

"He'll be fine. You would think that losing all that oil would shut his systems down permanently, but luckily, at his age, the Cybertronian body just uses its emergency oil tanks to take the lost oil's place. He'll be fine, Wildburner. It's more the mental damage we're concerned with, but he refuses to discuss it with us. We think he might talk to you, however. Would you be wil—"

"Yes, of course," answered Wildburner quickly. He jumped to his feet and waited for the two others to get up and lead him to his student.

"Prowl?" he called as the doctor and the nurse left him alone at the door to Prowl's room, "are you online, kiddo?"

"Yes, sir," Prowl answered quietly. Wildburner walked in quickly and placed his hand on the healing berth Prowl lay on. The young bot's injuries were covered in a layer of energon-based soft alloy, used as a bandage. Humans would have described it as being covered in glowing pink Play-Doh™.

"How are you feeling?" he asked. Prowl answered,

"I don't know. It kind of stings, but it's dull."

"I meant, how are you feeling, mentally?" When he received no answer, Wildburner took Prowl's hand and said,

"Prowl, I don't know why you did what you did. But it's important that you tell me. I'm very worried, and I'm scared. I don't want to see you die at such a young age." Prowl bit his lower lip, then asked reluctantly,

"Are…are you disappointed with me?" Wildburner sighed.

"I'm not disappointed with you, Prowl. I'm worried. I'm also very confused. What happened? You're the best student I have, except in a few academic classes. Everyone falters in their academics. Even I did. Failed a few classes, too. Is that the reason? Were you worried about school?"

"No," Prowl answered, "I'm just not good enough. I'm not good enough for my godfather. I'm just pathetic."

"So that's what this is about," muttered Wildburner, "Prowl, your godfather loved you. He knew you were going to be capable of wonderful things someday, I know because I met him. He didn't want to leave you. He wanted you to grow up, be happy, and do what you wanted with your life. He'd be upset if he saw you like this—he'd be as scared as I am."

"But doesn't being scared and upset mean being disappointed?"

"No, my boy. If I was disappointed, I wouldn't be here right now. Now, please tell me why you think I'm disappointed in you." Prowl shifted uncomfortably and answered,

"I stole your shuriken and used it to hurt myself. I showed weakness. I did something disgusting to myself with something important." Wildburner dimmed his optics and took in a deep intake of air to cool his worried, somewhat over-heated systems. There seemed to be no way to convince Prowl that he was not the worthless, pathetic thing he thought he was, but he was going to try anyway.

"Prowl," he started slowly, "The shuriken is not important to me. You, however, are. You've been like a son to me. I'm proud of you, I really am. You're destined for wonderful things in your future. You're young right now; your feelings are not uncommon. But the way you dealt with them…well, they weren't…um…"

"I shouldn't have done it. I was wrong to do it."

"No!" Wildburner was getting more upset every time Prowl made a negative comment. "No, you weren't being 'wrong' or 'worthless' or 'pathetic', Prowl. You just weren't sure of how to handle those feelings. You need to know that you really can talk to me about anything. Your mind, as well as your body, needs to be strong and healthy. Can you do that for me?" Prowl sighed, then answered.

"I can try, sir."

Master Wildburner smiled and gave his student a light pat on the head.

"We can talk now, or if you would prefer to talk tomorrow, we can do that."

"I…I need to talk now, sir. I can't promise I'll see tomorrow." This dark comment broke Wildburner's spark.

"Why, Prowl? Why?"

"I'm not worth it, Master."

"DAMN IT, YES YOU ARE!" yelled Wildburner as he slammed a fist down on the berth, startling Prowl. "WE ARE GOING TO GET THROUGH THIS, WHETHER YOU LIKE IT OR NOT, YOUNG MAN! I WILL NOT GIVE UP ON YOU, SO DON'T YOU DARE GO GIVING UP ON YOURSELF!"

He took several intakes of air to cool down his now very heated systems. He had never exploded at someone like that before, and he hated that he'd done it to his favorite student, but damn it, Prowl was too stubborn for his own good.

"Now, then," he said, trying to calm himself again, his voice cracking slightly, "why do you think you're not worth it?"

Prowl, a little too shocked to speak, simply stared at his teacher with his jaw hanging slightly open. Never before, thought Wildburner, had he ever acted so impossibly strange. Prowl was a loner, yes, but he had never been a student Wildburner, or anyone for that matter, needed to worry about. He was smart, independent, strong and well-trained in the art of Circuit-Su. It was like he had everything going for him, yet he wasn't—

Wildburner stopped in his own thoughts. He had realized something, something he had never thought about before. Prowl did have everything going for him, his future was to be bright and full of wonderful things, because he would make it happen. But he had no one to share it with, no family to be proud of him…it wasn't enough that his teacher was proud. Prowl was alone in this world, regardless of how many people he would know in the course of his life.

"M-Master?" Wildburner looked back down at Prowl and said gently,

"Yes, my boy?" Prowl hesitated, then said in the most innocently surprised voice Wildburner had ever heard,

"Are you really proud of me?"

The question was spark-breaking. Prowl sounded so amazed by it, as though the thought of someone being proud of him was a shocker. Wildburner kneeled down next to the berth, rested his strong, protective hands on Prowl's and answered,

"I'm so proud of you, Prowl. You're a good kid. We will get through this, I promise. There are safer ways to get your feelings out without hurting yourself, and we'll implement them as we go along. I want to share something I was told a long time ago. My own teacher told me, when I was a little older than you, that a machine is stronger than its component parts. I need you to be strong for me, and for yourself now, too."

Prowl took in the advice and thought about it for a moment. A machine is stronger than its component parts…it didn't matter what made the robot tick, what mattered was what the robot did with its life and time. Prowl realized that it no longer mattered that he was fantastic at Circuit-Su; the important thing was if he cared about it and being an active part of it.

"There's no room for negativity in an active life, now is there?" asked Wildburner with a smile. Prowl looked back at his teacher and answered,

"No, I guess not."

"Will you let me help you get healthy so that you can continue your active life?"

"Yes, sir. I'm sorry for all the trouble I've caused, sir."

"Don't be sorry. You are allowed to feel whatever you want to feel, Prowl. Don't you ever forget that."

"Sir?"

"Yes?"

"Can we practice meditation?"

* * *

**I wish someone would rescue me like this…**

**Anyhoo, only one chapter left to go, and then this is done. I liked it, but I didn't care about it too much. I have another Tf fic (G1) on the way, and I've had an idea for another TFA fic.**

**-Juana**


	6. Chapter 6

**Disclaimer: ****Writers of fanfics don't own the franchise. **

**Cartoon network had so better put this show on DVD. I don't have television, can't afford it, don't need it, but love TF:A. And since I have an actual TV and a VHS/DVD player ( a VHS is a video tape, for all you super hi-tech young'uns), I can watch the DVDs! I know that the "movie", aka first three episodes are on their way, DVD style, so hopefully the sales from that will boost CN's confidence enough to DVD-ize the entire series.

* * *

**

**Six**

Only a few mega-cycles passed until Prowl's body was healed. He bore many scars across his metal skin, and he found that he was somewhat humiliated by them. He didn't tell Wildburner he still hated himself, especially for showing what he considered weakness. The scars were a reminder of that, but Prowl didn't want anyone else to know. So he returned to Doctor Steelblast, and apologized to him for being so weak.

"Young man," said the doctor, "Do not apologize. Your situation is not uncommon, especially in the city. We see much less of it here because we actually teach strategies like meditation to help calm the processor. You have experienced a hard moment in your life, but life goes on. In four hundred mega-cycles, this may all be a far, very distant memory, one you may never even look back on. In fact, I had a friend a very long time ago have a similar problem. An addiction to high-grade energon."

"Really?" asked Prowl, who never once had thought that anyone else on the planet would have behaved like him, "What happened? Was he okay?"

"Oh, he stopped after I had words with him. Sometimes a person's savior is their own best friend. He grew up to be one of the greatest Masters of Circuit-Su, my boy."

"A Master? From here? Do I kno—I'm sorry, I shouldn't ask. It is not my business, sir. I meant no disrespect."

"My Primus!" Steelblast howled with laughter, "Wildburner, what do you do to these kids?" Prowl raised an eyebrow ridge and asked,

"Sir? Master Wildburner is not here. I don't—AUGH!" He cried out as something from above covered his optics and whispered,

"BOO!" into his audios. Prowl shook himself out of his small scare, then said,

"You're an evil person, Master Wildburner." The teacher dropped down from his place on the ceiling and landed next to Prowl, laughing as well.

"Like Steelblast said, I grew up to be one of the greatest Masters of Circuit-Su, my boy."

"Wait—YOU were addicted to high-grade? My teacher was an energonaholic?" Wildburner laughed again and said,

"Yep. I was headed towards the Pit, too, if my dear friend Steelblast hadn't given me a sharp slap across the face and the talking-to of the vorn. I still remember it to this day."

"You'd better," growled Steelblast in a mock-solemn tone, pointing at his old friend, "because if you don't…."

"Trust me, old friend, I will never touch the stuff again. And Prowl here has promised that he will come talk to me about any problems he may have _before_ he thinks about doing something self-destructive, isn't that right, kiddo?" He patted Prowl on the head.

"Yes, sir," grinned Prowl, who was loving the attention.

"Now, then, on to business," said Master Wildburner, "Prowl, go ahead."

"Doctor Steelblast, I hope you can help me. I, um, have all these scars that I want to…hide."

"Don't be embarrassed, young one," said Steelblast reassuringly, "I see many people each day looking to hide something they don't like. Some people keep their scars for the world to see, but Primus knows that Cybertronians are insanely vain about their looks."

"It's not that I'm vain, sir. I'm just…I'm humiliated by my actions."

"I know, dear boy. Well, let's have a look, then shall we? Give me your arm so I can determine the paint color used….thank you…ah! Very nice. You have black number fourteen….I have a can of that somewhere. Good. Now then," he led Prowl over to a little table, "I want you to just sit here…relax, this doesn't hurt…good."

Steelblast pulled up a long, thin, narrow piece of metal and, using an in-built knife, sliced it in half. Then he used so low-flame over the metal, making it pliable.

"Hold out your arm," he said to Prowl, who obeyed. Steelblast molded the thin metal over Prowl's entire arm, palm to shoulder. He made marks on the metal for reference when he would cut and weld it. He repeated the process for Prowl's other arm, his legs, his chassis and anywhere else that may have been marked up.

"This," he explained, "is how I do it. I make molds of your body so that it fits perfectly, and you can take it off whenever you want. It just slides off if you tug at it a bit. I'll be making a lot of these for you, considering you went a little overboard with yourself."

"Thank you, sir," said Prowl, bowing his head gratefully.

"You can come back in a few mega-cycles for them, young man. I believe you and Master Wildburner have some meditation to tend to?"

Prowl and Master Wildburner smiled at one other before Prowl answered,

"Absolutely, sir."

End.

* * *

**Love it, hate it, yeah. I was so-so about it. I do like it, I just don't love it. I think I liked "Puppet" more. Don't worry, folks, there's more stories on the way! And if you like Invader Zim and Sonic the hedgehog, go to my page and check out my shizzats. I gots more awesomeness there. And a Deviantart page link.**

**-Juana**


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